


Injustice: Is This Me?

by MaskoftheRay



Series: Stars Innumerable and Hearts Incandescent [8]
Category: Injustice: Gods Among Us
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bitter(sweet) ending, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Clark & Kal have a discussion, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne Friendship, Clark Kent Needs a Hug, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Bruce Wayne, Families of Choice, Found Family, Friends to Enemies, Friendship, Kal El is a douche, Kara Zor-El sees who her cousin could have been, Kara and Bruce watch out for each other, Loneliness, Love Confessions, M/M, Male Friendship, Mentors, Misunderstandings, Platonic Relationships, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Clark Kent, Protective Kara Zor-El, Sad, Unrequited Love, which goes about as well as you might imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-16 06:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21266585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskoftheRay/pseuds/MaskoftheRay
Summary: Clark Kent has now dealt with interdimensional traveltwice, and both times have been somewhat traumatic for all involved. So whenheis the one to get transported somewhere else, of course he’s not happy about it. Oh, and to make matters worse, the place he’s transported to just happens to be the horrible, nightmare of a world which he and the league have started calling theInjusticedimension.Or: What if the Superman from this universe got transported to theInjusticeuniverse for a bit? How would he react to meeting Kara? How would he react to meetingClarkKal?





	Injustice: Is This Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Clark fucking Kent. Let me just tell you about Clark Joseph “Wordy” Kent. I _tried_ so hard not to break the sanctity of 6,733 words (which is how long every other ‘main’ fic in the series has been) but noooo. Clark just _had_ to be different; I think it’s the writer in him. So, yeah: this is long. 
> 
> Also, I SPENT FOREVER editing this (both tweaks and more intensive) because I could not. Say what I damn wanted to (all Clark’s fault, I swear). But the time was worth it, in the end (or so I hope). Because the ending of this turned out to be so beautiful. And angsty :,) . 
> 
> My headcanon is that Clark hasn’t met Kara yet in ‘our’ world. And if I got any details wrong about IJ, I apologize (haven’t finished the comics). Just call it AU-ing of the AU, haha.

**Three minutes ago: **

It was a pleasant, spring Saturday afternoon. The sun was out, and there hadn’t been any major emergencies that week; Clark had even been able to finish all of his assignments pre-deadline. Earlier that day, he’d gotten all his grocery shopping done too, and Clark had made plans to have dinner with Ma and Pa tomorrow, at six. So, all-in-all, it had been a good day.

In fact, Clark had just settled down to enjoy his newest literary purchase when _it _happened. One minute he was sprawled on the couch, favorite plaid shirt unbuttoned, and the next he was _somewhere that was not his apartment_. It was, to say the least, unexpected. Perhaps, one may have argued, unwelcome.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

**Now:**

Clark picked himself up off the gritty sidewalk, and frowned.

Of course, he was no worse-for-wear from his (inter-planetary? inter-dimensional?) _whatever _fall, thanks to his powers. But Clark still didn’t want to ruin his jeans, or the shirt. Or, come to think of it, his book. He bent over and picked it up. “Well, it appears that I’m not in Kansas anymore,” he muttered. _Though hopefully this was still **Earth**… _

Clark tucked the book under his arm and did a visual sweep of his surroundings. He could almost hear Batman’s voice in his head as he did so: ‘focus, _Superman_. Every little detail may be important.’ Right. So what did he see? Well, he was in an alley, for one. There was a dumpster to his left, a puddle, and a telephone pole to the right. A band poster. Some graffiti. The road— but he wasn’t going out there quite yet. Not without seeing if it were possible to learn more about where he was first.

Clark lowered his glasses and peered through the nearest building. Or he tried to, at least. Unfortunately, his vision was blocked. By lead. He huffed. _So that was a dead end, then_. But Clark, investigative journalist that he was, would not give up so easily. He walked over to the dumpster to see if he could uncover a sticker with the city name and logo, or any particularly enlightening graffiti. He found both.

First, half-buried in filth, was the clean, simple design of Metropolis’s city logo: the sun rising between skyscrapers. Next was the… _enlightening_ graffiti. “Fuk Fasism— Down with the Regime!” “Long live Metropolis” “Batman 4ever.” _Ah. Well then._

As Pa would say, “You’re screwed worse ’n a couple of snowmen in the desert.” Clark just hoped that he could find _a certain Bat_ and then be able to talk to him about his **problem**. If not, well… Clark didn’t much fancy being one of those proverbial snowmen.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

The thing was, _the thing was_, it was a lot harder to get around not using his powers. Especially when _he didn’t have his wallet_, or know the layout of the city. Oh, it was still Metropolis, but Clark could tell that something _major _had recently occurred. ‘Recently’ being within the last three to five years.

He could see the cracks in the façades of some buildings— the microscopic symptoms of an unhealthy city— but it was more than that. Clark could also _see _a lot of new-looking buildings, and even some cranes. It was **quieter **than it ought to be too, and he saw the more-haggard-than-normal expressions of passersby. Yes, something **major** indeed: perhaps one of Earth’s greatest heroes going rogue, then starting a planetary dictatorship. And later, a war. Yeah, Clark _really _needed to find Batman.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

So, what did an undercover, known-supervillain (except, _not really_) do when they needed to find their (ex-)best friend, who may or may not try to apprehend them? What did said (not exactly) supervillain do, if they didn’t have money? If he _were _a supervillain, Clark wouldn’t have this problem. If the Superman of this dimension hadn’t become a giant _raging dick_, Clark could have just flown over to Gotham and asked, “Hey, Batman. You don’t happen to have any inter-dimensional portals laying around, do you?” But, thanks to **said counterpart**, he couldn’t do that. So Clark got creative.

He messed up his hair (with his luck he might just run into somebody who’d known Clark Kent), and then located the nearest used bookstore. He strolled in, book still tucked under one arm. Clark was glad he’d had the foresight to hang onto it. It was (literally) his ticket out of here. Pettily, he was annoyed that he’d be unable to read it— until he got home, at least.

He strolled over to the merchant’s line, and waited.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

“Eight ninety-five.”

Clark nearly groaned. _So much for recognizing quality writing. _“That’s really the best you can do?” he asked the bored-looking sales associate.

“I can do that amount in cash, or twenty percent more store credit. Take it or leave it.”

Clark sighed. _It’s too bad I don’t have a more valuable book on me. Though, really, it deserves better_. “Fine, I’ll take the cash. Thanks,” he said wearily.

The associate opened the register. “Here you go.”

“Have a nice day,” Clark said half-heartedly. He carefully pocketed the cash, and tried to recall how much an all-day subway ticket cost. He hoped it wasn’t more than $8.95.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

An all-day pass, it turned out, was five dollars. That meant Clark had $3.95 left. Which was basically useless— not enough to pay for a cab, or rent a room, or even buy a proper meal. So when he saw a disabled homeless woman, he tipped the money into her upturned cap. “_Thank you_,” she said earnestly. This time, Clark didn’t have to work so hard to smile. Though he still felt hollow inside, at the idea of his future prospects. He_ really _hoped he could find Bruce.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Clark looked at the station’s map, and pocketed a complimentary paper copy to sketch out his route to Gotham. That was when he found the first snag in his plan. He’d bought a Metropolis ticket, not a _Metro _ticket— halfway to Gotham, inside the Metro-Goth tunnel, the transportation system changed hands. So now Clark was left without a ticket for the second half of the trip, and he had no money to purchase a new one.

The _second _snag was that the Gotham subway system shut down after nine p.m., and it was already close to seven. With rush-hour traffic, not to mention the hour-long trip (plus time added for the multiple stops the train would make) he would _barely _make it; if he were lucky. Which— considering his _current_ situation— Clark wasn’t feeling. He let out another frustrated sigh. Well, he might as well at least get halfway there and then figure out the rest (he ignored the Batman-in-his-head telling him he was an idiot).

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Bruce took the elevator to the lobby. He ignored the subtle (and not-so) stares of his employees and the other businesspeople he passed. Some were brave enough to say hello. A few thanked him— even though it had been a few _years_ since Kal El had been put in prison— he ignored this as well. Bruce walked onto the street and climbed into the car. He caught his own scowling reflection in the rearview mirror. The expression seemed stuck in place more days than not now.

Traffic wasn’t horrible, not anymore, but it was still rush hour.

He felt nothing as he sat in the swarm of idling cars. The sound of horns, engines, and the faint music pouring from other vehicles blurred into a monotonous dull thing that slid over him without impression. _It was hard for **that **kind of thing to bother him anymore_, Bruce reflected, with a hint of irony. To think that he’d finally become _zen _after so many years. Of course, the price of this new attitude made the benefits of it negligible.

Bruce sighed, and forced himself to pay attention as the cars in front of him finally started moving. As the sign for his exit appeared, Bruce repressed the twinge of emotion it sparked in his gut. _He felt nothing_. That was how it should be. _He felt nothing_. It was fine. _Except_, his heart still told him, _it wasn’t_. Bruce signaled for the exit, and made his way off the highway.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

At the first security checkpoint, the guard barely blinked. He had worked for the private security firm that Bruce had formed for a long time. If things were _different_, this would undoubtedly have been a military facility. But Kal had wiped out the army, before. And then Brainiac had done the same when he’d invaded later.

The second checkpoint was just as easy, and Bruce took his time with parking, even though the underground parking structure was mostly empty. He took an equally long time walking to the door, and checking in at the penultimate security station.

The last guard merely looked at him, and waved him by. Bruce almost said something, but he knew himself enough to recognize that the desire (even if it were not _entirely_ unjustified) was motivated by his own internal upheaval. So he only nodded curtly, and strode past the other guards (who all stood straighter), by the first prison cells, and down, through increasing layers of security (he ignored the jeers and shouted insults of the prisoners).

Bruce’s scowl deepened, and he was suddenly and terribly _thankful_ that at least this couldn’t be made more painful by Kal’s ability to hear his pulse (anymore).

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

“Hello, sir,” the Warden said, as Bruce reached the last floor before _his _cell. He nearly groaned. _Of course the man would be here— it wasn’t every day that **Batman **paid a visit to the prison_.

The Warden, a gray-haired, burly military-type— whose name Bruce could not remember— had been hired after the first one had quit (citing stress). He was a bit of a yes-man, but otherwise efficient enough that Bruce ignored this flaw. He had originally offered the job to Dinah, but she’d rejected it on the grounds that she wanted to focus on her family. There had been no one else Bruce deemed qualified enough to offer the job to personally.

“I’m not here for an inspection,” Bruce said firmly, hoping the man would take the hint. Thankfully, this seemed to be the case. The Warden’s steps matched Bruce’s own quick ones, and the other man nodded.

“That may be so, but I’d still be willing to offer a status report.” With oft-practiced ease, Bruce swiped his security card over the industrial steel bunker door. He tried not to be annoyed by the Warden’s eager hovering. As the door slowly slid open, he turned slightly, and stared at the Warden’s forcefully-blank face. 

“No,” Bruce declared. “No, that won’t be necessary. However, if you _do_ have anything to report, I will, of course, be interested in hearing it.” The Warden looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. Bruce nodded. “In that case, you may leave. I’m sure you have better things to do than accompany me.” He slipped through the open door. _This would be painful enough without an audience_.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

After the bunker door shut, Bruce slowed. He took a last deep breath, and then pressed his security card against the scanner. The final set of glass double-doors slid open (if _he _escaped, no door would be enough). Silently, Bruce took in his first view of the prisoner.

Kal was half bent over, with his elbows resting on his thighs. If these had been the old days, Bruce would have thought that he was listening to the outside world, be it a distant shout or something more benevolent, like the sound of grass growing. However, the room’s consuming red-glow dispelled that fanciful notion. Kal couldn’t do that anymore. But sometimes Bruce still forgot.

He stood, a few feet back from the glass— he wasn’t _eager_, and Kal wasn’t a zoo animal— and waited. Sometimes Kal acknowledged him, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes Bruce had to announce his presence (he felt like he’d never get used to this). Today it appeared that Kal had decided to humor him. Or perhaps he was feeling particularly bitter. _That makes two of us_, Bruce thought tiredly.

“I thought you had forgotten me.” Kal’s eyes glowed with rage— _practically _glowed with rage. That was another thing he couldn’t do anymore. Bruce sighed. As he felt his shoulders sag, Bruce jerked them up immediately. _Best not to let Kal know how much he <strike>hurt</strike> <strike>bothered</strike> got to Bruce. _

“I could never forget you, Kal,” he replied calmly, if honestly. _Neither of them would ever forget the other. What was the harm in admitting that?_

Kal laughed. It was a distorted, angry sound. Bruce frowned. Kal stood— and it was curious that even now, after being under the red solar radiation for _years_, how graceful he still was. “I’m flattered. Why are you really here, **Batman**?” he asked.

“I’m here to make sure they’re treating you right,” Bruce snapped. “Unlike some people, I give a good goddamn about how my prisoners are treated.” He blinked, realizing how close he’d come to the glass. _Damnit_.

Kal smiled sardonically. “Oh, they treat me great, Batman! Room service daily, and laundry too. It’s wonderful. I can see why you never tire of it.”

Bruce muttered quietly, “I don’t fucking know why I bother with you anymore.” Kal snarled— he couldn’t _hear _Bruce— and a petty stab of satisfaction ran through him. _How do you like it, **Kal**— being just like us? _“Goodbye, Kal.”

“Fuck you too, Br— Batman,” Superman called mockingly. Bruce turned away before the other man could see his jaw twitch.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

The train arrived ten minutes late, with a great _screech_. Clark winced. _He’d have to ask Bruce to consider investing more in public transit_. The rest of his trip was no better.

The moment he got to the final stop before the Metro-Goth tunnel, Clark cursed quietly, “Shit.” He could see at least two ticket officers standing in the crowd outside the train, so ‘hopping’ the Gotham subway really wouldn’t be an option, especially since he— or _Kal El_ (which was still weird)— was a wanted man here. _Interdimensional travel was a pain in the ass_.

“This is just great,” Clark muttered. The young woman next to him glanced sideways, then looked back at her phone. He felt briefly embarrassed, then remembered: this was Gotham— or near enough to it. They were used to unstable people. Clark stood in a rush and left the train.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

The fresh, salt air of the bay felt lovely against his face, especially after the cramped atmosphere and _crusty _air of the subway. Clark took in a deep lungful and tipped his head back into the wind for a brief moment. Feeling a bit better, he opened his eyes and used his powers to scan the immediate area. Nobody around. He considered his path forward: who knew what kind of insane security measures Bruce— _this _Bruce— had placed around Gotham since… since _everything_? But, well, he didn’t exactly _have _any other options.

Clark floated low in the sky, and started his (hopefully uneventful) trip across the bay.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

So far at least, Clark couldn’t hear or otherwise sense anything _wrong_. Not that that _guaranteed _that Batman’s security system wasn’t going off right now. But it still made Clark feel better than he had the whole time he’d been here. _Get to the manor, find Bruce, explain my problem_, he thought. Sure, Clark might be detained for a while, but given that Bruce _had _met him before, it shouldn’t be too difficult to prove that he was not Kal. Hopefully.

Suddenly, Clark heard the rush of displaced air— something (or one) _fast_ was coming.

Clark waited, nerves jangling, for whatever it was to arrive. Knowing Bruce, it could be almost anything. But he was still surprised by what his interloper turned out to be. “_Kal_?” the blonde teen (wearing **his **symbol) asked incredulously. “What are you doing out of prison? Batman didn’t say **anything **about releasing you.”

Clark’s first reaction was: _I— **he**— had a kid? _But no, she couldn’t be his; too old, for one. His second thought was: _how the fuck did Bruce manage to build a Kryptonian from scratch? _But even Batman didn’t have the technology for that. Yet the teen in front of him was clearly Kryptonian.

“Uh. Who are you?” he asked stupidly. The teen’s eyes stopped glowing. She floated forward, tense, and ready to run. Or fight. Clark’s stomach sunk, and for the nth time, he cursed his counterpart, and felt a fierce frustration at being sent to _this _world.

“_Kal_,” the _Supergirl_, said, somewhat threateningly, “What are you. Doing. Out?”

Clark set his jaw. _So it was going to be like that, then_. “Look, I honestly don’t know who you are, because I’m _not from here_. I’m from another dimension, and I’ve been trying to find Bruce all afternoon. Batman told you about being transported to a different world, right? Well that’s happened to me. I just need to talk to him,” he replied placatingly.

But Supergirl didn’t seem to believe him, and her gaze narrowed into an angry squint. “I’m _not _stupid. And _you’re _not getting anywhere near Batman.” Before Clark could say something, the girl flew at him, with _his _strength and speed (if less experience). Clark dodged. _It seemed he was right about Batman’s insane security system after all_.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

As they flew across the bay, Clark felt his civilian clothing give way under the intense speed. Eventually, it peeled away from his body like snakeskin. Thankfully he’d put the suit on underneath it that morning… So far, Supergirl had managed to quite effectively stall Clark both by divebombing him, and through her judicious use of heat vision. Which _hurt_. _Once he got to Bruce, everything would be sorted out_.

“I’d say sorry for this, but I wouldn’t truly mean it,” Supergirl said, abruptly. Then something _painful _stabbed Clark’s neck— _kryptonite_.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Bruce’s cellphone rang as he was pulling into the manor’s driveway. “Hello,” he growled.

There was silence over the other end for a moment, before Kara’s slightly panicked voice cried, “Bruce! You need to get down here right away. I- I just ca-captured Kal El. He’s being held in Blackgate.”

Bruce frowned, and blinked slowly. _It— it wasn’t **impossible**, but it was highly unlikely, given where he’d just been_. Kara’s slightly tinny voice asked, “Bruce?” He realized that he’d been holding the phone away from his ear.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be right there,” Bruce replied evenly; since they’d captured him, Kal couldn’t hurt anyone. Besides, Bruce wasn’t even sure if it _was _Kal. But… best not to get his hopes up.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

After changing into the suit, Bruce headed to the prison. The gates opened immediately after his vehicle was spotted, which still felt odd. Supergirl, of course, noticed Batman’s arrival first. Through the car’s tinted windows, Kara’s face appeared worried.

Bruce parked, and strode briskly away from the vehicle. “I assume they’ve taken him to his usual cell?”

Kara floated at his side, and nodded. She still looked anxious. “Why are you so… _unconcerned_ about this?” she finally asked. Bruce sighed.

He pushed open the double doors (already unlocked for his arrival) to the Red Sun Wing of Blackgate. Compared to the rest of the prison, its hallways were pristinely clean, and a wall of guards stood at attention before the final set of double doors. Bruce started to withdraw his security pass from the belt, but the door was already unlocked by the time he reached it.

“Because I don’t think that it is _Kal_,” he replied quietly.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Kara stayed outside the interrogation room, albeit reluctantly. Bruce sternly reminded her that the red solar rays would sap her powers— which they needed in case he was wrong. Already, his heart felt _lighter_, thinking that it might be **him**. But that shouldn’t happen, because this too was temporary.

Kal— **Clark**— _Kal_ looked up, wincing, at Batman’s arrival. But when his gaze focused on Batman (Kara had used the special Kryptonite-laced sedative Bruce developed), his expression brightened. “Oh, thank God! Bruce, I am so glad to see you—”

Batman held up a hand. “What was the last thing you said to me, when I was… _there_?”

Kal— Clark blinked. He frowned for a moment, in which Bruce’s middle felt leaden. But then the other man replied, softly, “Goodbye, Bruce. _And good luck_.” Bruce sagged in relief, and didn’t even mind Kara’s protesting, which was piped in over the intercom. He ripped off the cowl and looked at the face of his best— (ex)best friend’s alternate.

“I have to go get the Warden to unlock the cell— it shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes or so. But I’ll be back soon,” he reassured. Clark offered a wan, relieved smile. Bruce nodded back, pulled the cowl up, and strode from the room.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

“What was that?” Kara demanded. She looked disturbed.

When Bruce ignored her, she placed an immovable hand on his armor-clad shoulder and jerked him to a halt. He growled, but subsided at her concerned gaze. She started scanning him, and Bruce tried to wave her off. “Kara,” he warned. _Not here, not in front of the soldiers and police_. She frowned flatly, and ignored him.

After a moment, she released Bruce, and looked somewhat more at ease. “No nanobots,” Kara muttered to herself. Bruce ignored this, and focused on his goal: the Warden’s office, then getting Clark out of here.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

An _hour _later, Bruce finally secured the prisoner’s release. The Blackgate authorities had made him go through a decontamination, take an antidote to Ivy’s toxin, and had Kara scan him for any foreign influences. Then they’d **still **made Bruce wait for another twenty minutes, in case any ‘symptoms’ showed up. They’d also called the _Alexander Joseph Luthor Prison for Metahumans_ to ensure that Kal El was still safely locked away.

Logistically, Bruce _understood_. He’d devised a lot of the safety protocols himself, as mind control was a very real concern; it always had been. However, _emotionally_, Bruce suspected that if he had to sit there one more minute he _would _lose his goddamn mind.

They did clear Batman in the end. Kara was quiet during the walk to the Warden's office, and threw him concerned looks every now and again. Bruce ignored this, figuring he couldn’t exactly blame her, as she had no idea what was going on. But she would soon.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

“You want to release the prisoner?” Warden Ardent asked doubtfully.

Bruce nodded, and refrained from growling, or any other aggressive action. “Yes, I do. Several years ago, I was… _transported _to another world, one that closely mirrors this one. Except their Superman never went bad. That man there, in the cell, is not Kal El. I am positive of it.”

The small office was silent, and Kara set down on the floor in shock (like her cousin, she _hovered _when worried). Supergirl stared at Batman. Bruce ignored this in favor of meeting Warden Ardent’s concerned gaze. “You’re sure of this?” the man finally asked.

Bruce did not sigh. But it was a close thing. “Yes. I know the difference between Clark Kent and Kal El. Besides, the man— whichever he is— will still be weak for several hours; I will also have Supergirl’s assistance in handling him. I trust that is enough.” At his words, Kara started.

The Warden, still looking concerned, nodded. “Very well. I’ll allow it… Good luck, Batman.” Bruce didn’t acknowledge these words, as he was already across the room and heading for the door.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Clark stood eagerly at Bruce’s insistent, “Clark!” He smiled, relieved. It wasn’t that he thought Bruce hadn’t believed him, or had decided to abandon him here, but… he’d said fifteen minutes and Clark was pretty sure it had been an hour. At least. It was hard to tell, with the lingering effects of the kryptonite (and the red sun radiation).

Bruce returned his smile, and then called, “Turn off the solar lamps, Kara.” The red lights dimmed, and Clark took in the first deep breath he’d taken in a while. It felt like the difference between a cold and an elephant sitting on his chest. The door to his cell unlocked with a small mechanized click, and Bruce strode forward to open it for him. “Need a hand up?” he asked.

Clark shook his head, but he did take his time walking to Batman’s side. Bruce didn’t even seem impatient. “It’s good to see you,” Clark confessed. “I was getting worried.”

Bruce sighed. It was part frustration, part dark humor. “Well, there _are_ procedures one must follow when they want to let _Superman_ out of prison.” He pushed open the double doors and led Clark into the hall, where Supergirl was waiting. She looked dubiously at him, then slid into position on Batman’s left-hand side, so she could watch them.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

“Kara, you can ride with us, or you can head to the manor. But if you’re coming with me, you’ll be in the back,” Bruce said. Kara glared at him, and Clark tried not to flinch. They were almost to Blackgate’s doors, and he’d noticed _a lot _of strange looks and murmurs thrown their way. Batman ignored the attention, though surely he noticed it.

“I’ll come with you,” Supergirl— _Kara _said, neutrally. _She doesn’t trust me_, Clark thought. Once again, he tried not to be insulted. _Remember what her prior experiences with Cl— **Kal El **have been_, Clark reminded himself. He frowned. They reached the car; Kara crammed herself into the backseat and Clark took the passenger’s seat. Then they were on the way to the manor.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

It was silent at first— and not just metaphorically. Clark still had red solar radiation _and _Kryptonite flowing through his veins, so his powers were pretty much kaput, and would be until morning. When they reached a red light in the middle of downtown, Bruce glanced sideways at him, and asked, “How are you feeling?”

Clark sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “Like shit, if I’m being honest. Whatever was in that Kryptonite mix was _effective_.” Bruce hummed, which meant he wasn’t surprised, maybe a bit _pleased _that the mix worked, and apologetic that it’d been used on Clark.

“Designed it myself. Mixture of liquid synth-K and morphine in a lead-lined syringe— if your Batman doesn’t have it, I’d recommend he make some.” Bruce’s gaze refocused on the road, and he said quietly, so much so that Clark had to strain to hear him, “I’m afraid you’re in for a slow recovery. For… obvious reasons, the cave no longer has solar lamps.” He trailed off.

Clark grimaced. He only kept from sighing because Bruce would be _worried_. “I understand.” He felt Supergirl’s stare on the back of his head.

Downtown Gotham soon faded, and they’d progressed into the suburbs before Bruce spoke again. Abruptly, he said, “I haven’t properly introduced you, Kara, have I?” He glanced in the rearview mirror, but the teen didn’t answer. She merely shrugged, and returned her perturbed gaze out the window.

“Clark,” Bruce said, “meet Kara Zor-El, otherwise known as Supergirl. Your cousin. Kara, this is Clark— well, one version of him, anyway.” Clark blinked. _That certainly explained a few things_.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

The car didn’t make its regular turn towards the cave, but rather up the manor’s front drive, and as a result, Clark was abruptly reminded that _people knew Batman’s identity here_. Bruce pulled to a smooth stop outside the house, and unlocked the vehicle’s doors. “Go on inside, I’ll meet you in the cave.” Clark got out first, and then Kara, looking reluctant, followed suit. Bruce pulled away, and the cousins stood outside until the batmobile had blended into the night.

Kara strode past him and unlocked the door. She walked wordlessly into the manor, and Clark followed. _Surely Bruce had done this to give them time to talk, but… What did he even say? Kara clearly didn’t trust him— or even seem interested in speaking to him_. But Clark really felt like he should say something. They came to a stop just inside the entryway.

“I understand,” Clark said softly, “if you don’t want to talk to me, and why. But where I come from, I _am _the last Kryptonian. Maybe that will change someday, who knows— until then, though, I’m alone. So I get it.”

Kara continued hovering with her back to him for a moment longer. Then she touched down on the carpet, and gave him a morose look. She sighed. “I… you’re _not _Kal, I know. You would’ve found a way to escape already if you were. But you look _just like **him**_, Clark, and I can’t ignore that. Bat— Bruce _knew you _before. I didn’t…” she trailed off, but looked as if she had more to say. Supergirl looked at Clark, to gage his reaction.

Clark nodded. “I understand. But if you— er, your alternate— ever does show up in my world, things will be different.”

Kara offered a faint smile. Then her head cocked to the side slightly, and she rose a few inches off the ground. “Bruce just parked. C’mon.” Clark followed his cousin— not-cousin— down to the cave.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Bruce took his time driving after he dropped Kara and Clark off. He’d never had much blood family to be close to, so he imagined that this ‘reunion’ would mean a lot to Clark; from what he’d gathered, there was no Kara Zor-El in Clark’s world. Bruce remembered that even _Kal _had been excited upon learning of his cousin’s existence. He frowned, and his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter at that thought.

Eventually, Bruce did arrive at the cave. As he parked, he saw that Supergirl and Superman were already waiting for him. Kara more eagerly than Clark. Bruce’s frown deepened, and he felt a profound pang of _sadness _pass through him. _Kal really had destroyed everything he touched_…

With a bit more flare than necessary— Clark had always smiled at that— Bruce exited the vehicle. Both Els looked up, and Bruce repressed a sigh, and the following flashbacks regarding who else had once waited for him in the cave. _Things were different now, and they wouldn’t change_. “Let’s head up,” Bruce said, “and I’ll place an order for dinner.”

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Clark opened his mouth to ask why they needed to order out when Bruce had Alfred, but thought better of it. If Bruce hadn’t mentioned his father-figure, it was for a reason. He sighed, feeling more exhausted than he had in a long time. _This world… it was so broken_.

They ended up eating Chinese. The delivery boy didn’t even blink as Bruce opened the door, which told Clark _a lot_. His heart hurt. Clark felt _very _relieved that he’d be going home soon.

The meal was eaten largely in silence. Bruce merely took the cowl off and removed the cape. They ate at the immense formal dining table, and Clark was abruptly _glad _that his powers were gone, or they’d have been screaming at the lack of sound. _Bruce actually **lived **here_, Clark reflected with crawling horror. And given that he was eating _in the suit_, he had nobody to stop him from doing so— he had nobody to remind him to be _Bruce_. Christ, it was no wonder Bruce had been so messed up by his trip here— it was no wonder why _this _Bruce was so messed up.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

After dinner had been cleared away, Bruce sent Kara and Clark off to change and he headed down to the cave, saying that he had “things to work on.” Clark, for once, was happy to strip out of the suit— it always felt weird wearing it when he didn’t have powers. Also, after the day he’d had, Clark rather wanted a shower.

As they walked up the stairs to the wing of guest bedrooms, Clark blurted, “Does anyone live with Bruce?”

Kara stopped on the stair ahead of him. She turned, and raised an eyebrow. But something in his expression— which was of earnest _concern_— must have thawed her out. She sighed, and something in her face softened. “Most of the time. I have my own place in Metropolis too, but Gotham’s just as convenient.”

Clark nodded, and felt his shoulders sag a little with relief. _Good. Bruce had at least one person_. At Kara’s questioning silence, Clark looked up. “I’m glad that he has you, Kara,” he replied. Kara still looked confused, and so Clark reluctantly elaborated, “I… I don’t know how things have changed here— most things seem to have _started out _similarly enough— but in my world, Bruce has a family to look out for him.”

Both Kryptonians fell silent for a moment, on that heavy note. Then Kara, still looking at Clark, swallowed, then said, “We… may not be _family_, but we do well enough.”

Clark nodded. “Good. I’m glad.”

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Bruce stripped out of the suit and showered. After he’d toweled off and changed, he padded over to the corner of the cave— once the <strike>family</strike> team locker room— and stopped in front of a massive sheet-covered object. He sighed. _No avoiding it. Keeping Clark here any longer than necessary would not only endanger him, but discomfort him too. And the longer he stayed… the worse it would hurt_.

Bruce pulled off the sheet to reveal a large, metal ring, atop a platform. It was about twelve feet tall, and had a small control interface on the side. It was turned off, and had been since Batman captured it from the enemy. But it worked. He knew that. It would work to take Clark <strike>away from him</strike> home.

Bruce awkwardly kicked the sheet away from the device and walked upstairs.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Clark felt much better after the shower. Hell, he thought he could even fall asleep and not be woken up by nightmares about this place. Kara wandered off after showing him to his room— conveniently stocked with extra clothing for guests of any gender and size— and when Clark had dressed, she reappeared at his door, with a knock. Or, Clark _thought _it was Kara who would be there. But when he opened the door, it was Bruce.

“Hi,” Clark said, awkwardly. He’d expected to have to drag Batman out of his cave, so seeing him here was a bit of a shock. Bruce smiled faintly, but the expression slid from his face after a moment. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

Clark sighed— but it was in contentment, this time. “A lot better,” he confessed, “being out of the suit, and the food, really helps.” Bruce nodded, but his eyes darted away from Clark’s gaze. Clark nearly sighed again— but that’d just drive Bruce off; it seemed that the best strategy with _any _Batman was to wait.

Finally, Bruce looked up. “The portal’s ready,” he said stiffly. “So whenever you want to go, you can.”

Clark blinked, and his stomach actually _lurched_. He **wanted **to get home, very much, but it also didn’t feel right to leave Bruce all alone just yet. And he still hadn’t gotten to talk to Kara all that much either. “Uh,” Clark said, stalling. “I actually was thinking I could leave tomorrow sometime, maybe the morning after, if it’s alright with you. I’m still feeling pretty drained, so I’d like to recharge before I get sent back.” _And I still want to talk to a certain Kryptonian asshole_.

Bruce visibly deflated for a moment, before he caught himself, and threw up his ‘I’m Batman and I have no emotions’ wall. “Good— I mean, I don’t mind. It’ll be waiting for when you’re ready,” he said, stepping back. Clark smiled, and let him make his retreat. Then, yawning, he turned off the light and went to bed.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Clark woke early the next day with a pounding headache and a lingering soreness throughout his body. So when he saw that somebody— probably Bruce— had opened the curtains, he eagerly stumbled out of bed and stood in the patch of early morning sun. Once most of the soreness had eased into nothing worse than a slight ache, and the headache no longer beat in his brain, Clark dressed and went to find the rest of the manor’s residents.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

“You want me to sneak you into a state-of-the-art prison complex, with the best security money can buy. The prison that was designed by Earth’s finest minds, myself included. With no time to plan it. Just so you can see your evil counterpart before I send you through a portal back to your dimension,” Bruce repeated bluntly.

He, Clark, and Kara were seated at the kitchen island and had just finished eating breakfast. Kara was watching the conversation silently, looking skeptical about his request. Clark blinked, feeling flustered. “Well, when you put it _like that_ it sounds like a terrible idea! But it’s not. Don’t be so… so— so _you_ about it,” he replied. Bruce huffed, before taking another long sip of his coffee.

“Fine,” he said shortly, after putting his empty mug down. He stood.

Clark blinked. “‘Fine?’” he questioned.

Bruce looked back at him. “We’ll do it,” he replied. Clark wasn’t sure who looked more surprised, him or Kara.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Bruce had not really been surprised when Clark asked to see his counterpart. In fact, he had kind of expected it. But he _had not _planned on saying yes to his request. It was… frankly, it was an absolutely _terrible _idea, for multiple reasons, and Bruce could foresee many ways for things to go wrong (some more realistic than others). But he still said yes.

He still said yes because maybe, just maybe, Clark would learn something from it. Something that would keep him from <strike>breaking Bruce’s heart</strike> <strike>ruining things</strike> turning **bad** if ever he faced a situation similar to Kal’s. Bruce said yes because he himself was, in some way, a _vindictive **bastard**_ and he wanted to spite Kal. Nothing would do that quite as well as him seeing Bruce interact with another, normal Superman. If Bruce _disliked_ reminders of the past, well… Kal El did even more. He said yes because it meant that Clark would be here for a while longer yet, and that meant Bruce got to see him longer <strike>and he didn’t have to say goodbye so soon</strike>.

“Why, Bruce?” Kara asked. _Why are you taking the risk? Why are you indulging him when you know his presence here is only temporary? Why is **he** so **important**?_

“To make sure _it _doesn’t happen to his world,” Bruce replied evenly. He focused on the beating of his heart until Kara had departed.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Sneaking Clark into the prison turned out to be extraordinarily _easy_.

After making Clark stand outside for a good hour while Bruce did some paperwork, he gave his friend a suit to wear and made him comb his hair. They decided on a minimal backstory, in case anyone asked, and then Bruce drove them— the three of them, because Kara insisted on coming— in the Bentley to the _Alexander Joseph Luthor Prison for Metahumans_.

Once they’d parked, and made their way through security to the prison’s ‘lobby,’ Bruce decided that he needed to create new security measures. Immediately after Clark’s departure. It shouldn’t be as simple a process— _even _(**_especially_**) _for_ _himself_— to march up to the front office and say, “I need a visitor’s pass” and get one. Although, for now, it was convenient. There were some things— a very, very minuscule and limited amount of them— that Bruce _appreciated _about having a public identity.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

After they’d made the trip through the prison— accompanied by its usual cacophony of jeers— Bruce relaxed as much as he could, given his location. Given the fact that he was _here _with Clark. Without the suit. Clark, on the other hand, looked disturbed. He didn’t _say_ anything, but Bruce could tell that the other man was thinking something along the lines of ‘_is this normal?_’ Kara also hovered near his left side, though Bruce granted that this might be subconscious on her part <strike>though Kryptonians tended to hover nearby when they were worried</strike>. He’d talk to her about it later.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Once they were outside that pair of familiar, glass double doors, Bruce halted his small entourage again. Kara was _definitely _hovering too close now. Bruce ignored this. “Are you sure?” he asked, meeting Clark’s deep gaze. ‘You don’t have to,’ he didn’t say. ‘This is not a penance you have to pay.’

Clark set his jaw in an achingly-familiar way, and Bruce abruptly felt as if something had cracked in his chest (he hoped neither Kryptonian noticed). “Yes. I’m sure,” Clark said firmly. Bruce nodded, and pushed his security card against the door.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Kal didn’t notice when they entered the room.

He was reading _Crime and Punishment_ while lying on the ground with his bare feet propped up against the bed; Kal rarely cared about propriety these days. The scene would almost have looked domestic, if it weren’t for the blaring orange jumpsuit. Or the angry red lighting (Bruce did not think they would be there long enough for it to seriously affect _his _Kryptonians).

“Kal El,” Bruce called. Kal turned a page of his book. Bruce frowned. _It was hard to tell when the man was ignoring him, or genuinely hadn’t heard Bruce. That didn’t used to be a problem._ Kara and Clark stood back awkwardly, letting Bruce do the ‘handling’ for now. “Kal,” Bruce repeated, a bit more firmly. “You have visitors.”

Kal sighed (so he had been ignoring Bruce, then), and slowly set the book down. He placed his legs back on the floor, then stood. When he turned around, his eyes flitted past Bruce, straight to Clark. His eyes narrowed, and then his blazing gaze flickered back to Bruce. “_Who the fuck is that?_” he snarled.

Bruce smiled, and leaned forward, so he was almost touching the glass. “I told you: a visitor.” He turned around, gestured for Kara, and strode from the room. Bruce only managed to repress a self-satisfied smile through sheer willpower.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

The moment Bruce flounced out of the room, followed by Kara, Kal El turned on Clark. It was rather disconcerting, to see the rapid and complete _change _his features underwent. Clark, who still had his powers, was able to watch the transformation muscle-by-muscle. “I take it you’re some sort of clone?” Clark’s evil-self said.

“No,” Clark replied. He paused. _Bruce hadn’t actually told him what he could say_.

Kal picked up on his hesitation, of course. He was still sharp—_ being evil_ hadn’t changed that. “What, did Batman not give you enough instructions?”

Clark frowned, beginning to feel irritated. “He didn’t give me any instructions. This was _my_ idea.”

Kal paced forward, and stared up at Clark. He frowned. Clark was certain, if the other man had still had powers, that his eyes would be glowing. “So if you’re not a clone, what are you doing here? Did B— **Batman** finally decide to _replace me_?”

Clark frowned. **_How _**_did Bruce do this?_ “That’s not it either. I came to see how I could go _so wrong_,” he snapped. Then he sighed. It wouldn’t be good to let… _well, him_, see how easily he **disturbed **Clark.

Yet, instead of becoming angrier at Clark’s harsh statement, Kal El laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. “Oh, that’s rich,” he said bitterly.

“I’m not replacing anyone,” Clark repeated firmly. “I’m just visiting here.”

_That _stopped Kal’s laughter. He froze for a brief second— an eternity, to Clark— and then frowned deeply. It was disturbing, seeing that particular brand of malice cross his own features. “Oh? So what, I’m just a diversion to you— a Superman who’s not-so-super _must_ be entertaining, after all.”

Clark shook his head. Kal watched him unblinkingly. “No— I came to _talk _to you. To understand…” _why you turned evil_.

He’d hesitated over that word for a long time, at first. But after hearing Bruce’s (both of them) story, as the evidence piled up, that had been the only conclusion that Clark could draw. He, in this world, was **bad**. Evil. Wrong. It was just that simple… For the first time, Kal was silent. It was unnerving, to watch the other man— _him_, for all intents and purposes— pace restlessly, bound by gravity, and laws, and his own _hate_.

“I bet you still call yourself _Clark _too,” the other Superman replied quietly. “I bet you still think that Br— _Batman _will always have your back, that _nothing_ can ever come between you two. Because you’re brothers, right? And brothers fight for each other. I bet…” he paused a moment. Before he swept a hand over his eyes, Clark saw sheer _agony_— indescribable and haunting— in them. “I bet,” Kal El continued, “when you kiss your Lois, you don’t think, ‘this may be the last time.’”

Despite himself, Clark felt sympathetic. _Yes, he’d heard the story. And he could only imagine the pain of… of **killing **Lois. But_— “That doesn’t excuse your actions, Kal. Because you could have stopped there. If you _had _stopped there, then maybe you could have been forgiven. But you didn’t! The political killings? The fearmongering? The dictatorship? EVERYTHING YOU DID TO BRUCE! TO KARA! _THAT_— that is why you deserve to be here.”

Kal laughed. He laughed until he was wheezing— and, though Clark didn’t say it (for fear of setting off his alternate), he was reminded of a certain Gotham villain. Kal’s laughter was abruptly cut off by a caustic sneer. “You know, that’s almost verbatim what Batman once told me?”

Clark sighed, and ran a hand over his face. _This was going nowhere_. “I don’t know why I’m here—” Clark cut himself off. He’d meant that _literally_, as in, he didn’t know what force had drawn him here. But... he found that the statement was true philosophically, as well. “I don’t know why I’m here, Kal. Except maybe to see what I looked like when there was nothing of _me _left.” He turned to leave.

“Wait!” Kal called. Clark stopped. He turned. Kal peered up at him with hard eyes. “When it happens to you— and it _will_— I hope you have people there to support you.”

This time, it was Clark who gave the cool look. “I hope so too, Kal. In fact— if I _ever _come close to doing what you did— I _pray_ that Bruce will be there to **stop** me.”

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Predictably, Bruce and Kara were waiting for him in the hallway. As Clark came through the double doors, Bruce stopped mid-pace. He looked up, brow furrowed and fists taut. Clark gave him a wan smile. Bruce relaxed, somewhat. “Let’s get out of here,” Clark suggested. Bruce nodded, and walked quickly past him. Clark was unsure if the sound of his friend’s erratic heartbeat was real, or if it only seemed that way because of his exposure to red sunlight. He did, however, know that Kara’s stare was real.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Bruce’s smooth stop jolted Clark from his thoughts. He hadn’t even realized when they’d entered Gotham, so it was a bit of a shock to suddenly be in front of the manor again. This time, Bruce left the car where it was. Kara, as if sensing that the two adults needed to talk, left. Clark stepped a few feet away from the car, and looked up at the cool, gray, cloud-covered sky. “When do you think— when are you leaving?” Bruce asked quietly.

Clark sighed thoughtfully. After another brief moment, he looked at his friend. Bruce was the one looking at the sky this time. His posture looked… oddly _stiff_. As if he were braced to hear bad news. Clark frowned. “I think now, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Bruce’s heart thumped violently, once. “No, it’s not. Let— let me get everything ready.”

Clark let him go, then he retraced Bruce’s path into the manor. He ended up in one of the many sitting rooms and plopped down in a comfortable-looking leather couch, by one of the room’s many large, extravagant windows. Even Gotham’s weak sunlight made him feel better. That was where Kara found him.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

“I… I may have misjudged you,” she said. Clark turned around, and raised an eyebrow. Kara stepped forward, and fell silent. Clark swallowed, and contemplated what he wanted to say.

“I don’t blame you— I never did— for what you might feel about me, Kara. I, well, _he_, has been a terrible cousin. So it’s only natural you’d feel the way you do. My Bruce— the one from _my_ world, I mean— did the same after getting back. Your Bruce did too.”

Kara nodded, after a moment. Then she smiled, though her eyes stayed sad. “Thank you, Clark.” _I wish we had met each other earlier, in a different time_. Clark smiled back.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

About an hour later, Bruce called them down to the cave.

When Clark saw the machine, he stopped, and whistled. “Wow.”

Bruce sighed. “Come over here, Clark. I need to calibrate it to your DNA.” Clark obliged.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Bruce took his time calibrating the portal. It was because he wanted to be _certain _that he got it right, and _not _for any other, more sentimental, reason <strike>like the fact that he was going to _miss_ Clark</strike>. Kara hovered in the backdrop, but didn’t make herself intrusive. So they’d talked, then. Bruce was glad. Even if it meant that Kara would want to _talk _to him later. Finally, there was nothing else to do. No valid reason for further delay. “It’s ready,” Bruce heard himself say. He swallowed. “Let’s get you home, Clark.”

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

He had Clark stand on the platform, and started the powerup sequence. The portal mechanisms whirred, almost becoming uncomfortably loud. Bruce pulled on his goggles, before the machine generated a bright white flash. Then an opaque non-liquid, non-gas substance filled the circular void. It was ready. Except for the final step. Which he hesitated over. _Stupid. So fucking stupid. Just press the goddamn button already. He’s been here long enough_. But… but he couldn’t. Not just yet.

Bruce swallowed, and hadn’t even realized how tight his throat had gotten until Clark’s concerned voice broke through his mental haze, “_Bruce?_”

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Bruce worked to control his heartrate, to no avail. Clark, sighing, stepped away from the portal. Bruce got a hold of himself, and met him halfway. Distantly, he remembered that Kara was still there, watching. “What is it?” Clark asked, derailing his thoughts.

Bruce sighed. He ran a hand over his face, and half-mumbled into his palm, “Can I… can I kiss you, before you go?”

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Clark blinked. The cave was absolutely _silent _for a moment. Briefly, he recalled that Kara was still there. Then his brain finished processing Bruce’s request. _Bruce wanted to **kiss **him_. His mind, logically, had no small difficulty putting the words ‘Bruce,’ ‘kiss,’ and ‘him’ in the same sentence. So, then, Bruce— _his _Bruce— had been wrong… or maybe hiding something.

During his prolonged silence, Bruce had shrunken down, and was now avoiding eye contact. But then he glanced up, and saw Clark looking. “I— I’m _sorry_,” he said. “That was… inappropriate. Let me just— I can go ahead and get you—”

“No,” Clark said. He… he _didn’t _have feelings for Bruce, in that way, but. _But_, if he could be a balm for this man, this version of his friend who had suffered so greatly, then Clark _would_. “No, it’s alright. I’m just surprised, is all.” Bruce offered him a small smile, before blushing.

“I… thank you. I would normally never have imposed, but.” _You’re leaving, and unless another freak accident happens, I’ll never see you again_. Bruce sighed.

Clark’s heart twinged. _God, this world… it was constantly and inexhaustively just so brutal_. “Well, come on, Batman. Give me my goodbye kiss,” he said lightly. It worked. Bruce’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he stepped forward, and then suddenly, their mouths were crushed together.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Of all the unbelievable things, Clark had said _yes_. Bruce stepped forward, and, as he’d wanted to do for _years_, kissed Clark Kent. It was just as devastating an experience as he’d imagined it would be. Devastating and so perfect. So sweet. And it had come too late. Too fucking late to make a difference. Too fucking late to change anything, and it happened with the wrong Clark. Bruce took one moment longer to commit the feel of Clark’s lips to memory, then stepped away.

**~-~-~ ** **||| ~-~-~ ||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~ ** **||| ** **~-~-~**

Bruce was the one to end the kiss, which surprised Clark a bit.

He was also surprised because, well— he hadn’t _hated _it. Mostly because Clark loved the man who’d been kissing him. There were not many people whom Clark considered himself to be closer to, or trusted more, than Batman. But he did not love Bruce _like_ _that_. “I— I’m sorry. It doesn’t change anything,” Clark said regretfully. He almost wished it did, looking at Bruce’s worn face.

But the other man merely smiled at Clark’s statement. The expression hurt his heart anyway. “Don’t be. I— I just had to know. I wanted to see what it would be like, even once. It’s obvious now that it wouldn’t have worked. Thank you for indulging me anyway,” Bruce said honestly.

Clark blinked, feeling as if he’d just been stabbed by kryptonite. But this problem was beyond even Superman’s abilities. He sighed. There was nothing more he could say, and now Bruce was looking at him expectantly. Clark stepped back towards the portal. “Goodbye, Bruce,” he said softly.

Bruce, from behind the portal’s controls, smiled back. He looked calm, save for the slight brightness in his eyes. “Goodbye, Clark.” He pressed the activation button, and Clark felt a sudden tug in his gut. As the portal prized apart Clark’s atoms, he felt more pain than he perhaps should have.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! 🎃😈


End file.
